


Taking Things One Misadventure at a Time

by Adiboudi, OmniGamer



Category: Elder Scrolls Online
Genre: Gen, Join us on this craziness, Random Adventures through the Elder Scrolls
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-02-23 06:58:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13184751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adiboudi/pseuds/Adiboudi, https://archiveofourown.org/users/OmniGamer/pseuds/OmniGamer
Summary: This is what happens when two writers roleplay in Elder Scrolls... you get stories from our most memorable moments.





	1. Buried Secrets

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy.

“We just have to cross this bridge, right?” Bowen peered over the edge, the bottom far out of the reach of the glow from the hanging braziers. He turned to Agavni with the slight hope the small woman would correct him otherwise.

Pressing her hand to her forehead, Agavni stared off into the distance of the bridge, squinting her cool-blue eyes in an attempt to see its end. “Yep! Neramo should be waiting for us on the other side.” The young woman glanced up at the hefty Nord, quirking a curious manicured eyebrow. “You’re… not afraid, are you?”

The Nord looked appalled that she would imply such a thing, though the slight dusting of rose on his cheeks indicated she hit the mark. “What? Nooooo.” He stomped forward as if to prove his point, but his legs had a slight shake to them.

A gentle smile danced on Agavni’s lips. He was scared, she knew it; but she refrained from making any sort of commentary, knowing that it might upset him further. Running up to the large man, she interlocked her arm with his as if he were the one escorting her, hoping to encourage him. “We just need to stick to the center. I mean, what could go wrong?”

“You’d be surprised…” he grumbled, blue eyes set to the ancient bridge as if expecting it to collapse some time soon. “Didn’t he mention something about traps? Why haven’t we seen any yet?”

“Hmm, you’re right. Maybe we just got luck- AH!” It was as if they cast the evil eye when Agavni suddenly felt a sharp sting against her posterior; glancing back with an embarrassed glare, she noticed one of the golden plates that lay scattered upon the old bridge arcing with electricity. “What the…”

“You were saying?” He’d tease her about the shriek later, when he wasn’t focused on the worrying hissing noise coming from the many vents lining the ground in front of them.

Now Agavni was the scared one. Beside her, Bowen had slipped his shield from his back and drew his war hammer. Following her comrade’s instincts, she drew her own magic staff as an icy glow claimed its tip; she quickly cast an elemental strike onto the first Dwarven automaton as it assembled itself before them. Long metal legs twitched uncontrollably as it fell into a heap of lifeless metal. Another was quick to take its place.

Strangely enough, Bowen could handle this; his fear of heights momentarily forgotten as he surged forward into the swarm, his heavy hammer cracking into the side of the closest mechanical spider and shattering the glowing crystal buried within.

Agavni watched in amazement as the brave man fought off the approaching swarm; thrusting her staff towards the sky, the young woman called down a lightning bolt onto the nearby crowd in hopes of aiding Bowen. It was only when she felt a sharp pain rush up her spine, that she realized she left her back unprotected. “Back off!” She cried out as she whacked her staff into a Dwarven spider that had come far too close for her liking.

Bowen heard her exclamation and risked a glance over his shoulder. Three more had managed to sneak up behind them. “I think they like you,” he teased, quickly casting dark talon and running back to her side as the enemy was temporarily immobilized by several long dragon claws that had materialized from the ground. “Still think we were lucky?”

A deep crimson blush spread over Agavni’s gentle features, pouting at the hearty man with a frown; she acknowledged that she had been wrong, not that she was going to admit it outloud right now. Backing up to create more distance between her and the automatons in order to cast her spells with more ease, she collided with the swarm that Bowen had managed to immobilize with his talons. She took advantage of their motionless state and used her lightning form, wrapping her being in an electrical current to cause a continuous shock to her immediate surroundings, barely missing Bowen in the process.

The Nord lashed out with his hammer, making a small gap in the wall of deadly metal. “Come on!” he shouted over the creaking and hissing of mechanical joints as their escape was quickly closing again.

Agavni tried to stick to his sides, but it seemed that every time they killed a Dwarven spider, two more would take its place; soon enough, she found herself surrounded and barely capable of joining her companion. With a frustrated growl, the young mage slammed her staff into the ground and desperately summoned an elemental barrier before her, successfully stunning a few opponents temporarily. “Bowen!” She called out in a panic, feeling the injuries to her body slowing her as the automations closed in around her for a painful group hug. Bowen may have been joking about their attraction toward her, but it was beginning to ring true.

Realizing that Agavni wasn’t close behind, he turned spotting a large swarm of the mechanical spiders that had surrounded the petite half-Breton. He sighed and let his hardened armor surround his body, large spikes protruding from his back and arms as the magic swathed him in its protection. “Agavni!” he shouted, smashing a path back to her. Again, he cast black talon, feeling his pool of mana strain against the repeated use, but it didn’t matter when his friend was in trouble. “You alright?”

She shook her head, mostly out of disbelief of the sudden twist in their journey; sensing another creature at their side, she furiously slammed her staff into the Dwarven automaton and shattered the soul gem within. “We need to keep moving. They… they just keep on coming!”

“Agreed.” A lucky strike on one of the spider’s part, managed to catch him in the side drawing a stream of blood. He let out a muffled cry as he retaliated against the strike. He couldn’t risk showing weakness here. Wrapping an arm around her slim waist, he hefted her over his shoulder, earning him a slight squeak from the small woman as she clung to his armor in surprise. In quick strides, he made it to the end of the bridge and set her down, wincing as his injury was aggravated by the action. The spiders seemingly retreated once the pair had made it to the other side, but it wasn’t safe to relax just yet.

Agavni was quick to notice his wounds and pressed a small hand onto his side in an attempt to slow the blood loss. “You’re alright.” The young woman spoke comfortingly as she glanced up at him worriedly, mostly hoping that he hadn’t received anything grievous; she would properly tend to his injuries once they were out of the nightmarish ruins.

“Of course.” Bowen tried flashing his usual smirk, but it ended up being more of a grimace. Hearing no further noise from their earlier attackers, he risked putting his weapon away.

“Come on,” Agavni ushered gently, “we’ve stayed here long enough.” Leaning against the large doors, she attempted to push them open with the weight of her body; the exit barely budged as its groan echoed within the empty ruins.

With the tiny mage so preoccupied, Bowen reached out with a hand and pushed, the door swinging open much more quickly with his added mass. She glanced up at him, but he had already removed his hand when he spied her head move.

“Th-Thank you…” Her voice muttered shyly as she hung her head in embarrassment.

The Nord didn’t say anything, rather he tried to pretend she hadn’t needed his help opening the heavy metal doors.

The small opening that they created was enough for them to squeeze through, finding Neramo idly waiting for them on the other side. “Ah, there you are! I was just coming to, er, help you. I hope you found what we were looking for?”

Bowen had a few choice of words on his tongue, but Agavni simply smiled and stepped forward, a quieted rage building behind her sparkling eyes.

“As promised, we have your drawings,” she said.

Neramo accepted the scrolls eagerly. “The schematics are mine at last! Splendid. This places me in your debt. What would you ask of me in return?”

“Help Captain Kaleen with the heist she’s planning.”

“I hear Kaleen intends to head toward the isle of Betnikh. The ruins there greatly interest me. But first, I will assist you in this heist.”

At this point, Bowen was near close to giving the elf a fairly rude gesture, but Agavni thanked Neramo and pushed the Nord along.

“That prick…” She muttered angrily just out of earshot. “Coming to help, my foot…”

“Still isn’t too late to go back and hang him from his toes… let the assassin beetles get him,” Bowen suggested half-seriously, a hand wrapping around his side to stem the slowed blood flow.

“Naah, he’ll get what’s due. People like him always do…” As pissed as she was at Neramo, Agavni was far more worried for her wounded comrade. “Now, let’s find a place where I can take a look at that injury.”

He huffed, not wanting to make a fuss over it, but he knew from experience that it was a losing battle to try and argue with Agavni, especially over one’s well-being. They found a small sheltered alcove, and Bowen leaned up against the stone wall and slid to the sandy ground.

Though the perforation hadn’t damaged anything vital, it was deep and already swelling; as if by automatism, Agavni rubbed her hands together to heat them up before proceeding coming into contact with Bowen’s skin. Not that it seemed to matter, as the moment she touched him, she heard a distinct, “By Ysgramor’s beard, your hands are cold! We’re in the middle of a desert, and you’re walking around with ice blocks for hands.”

The young woman bit down on her bottom lip, trying to fight back the laughter that threatened to escape her throat; despite that, she couldn’t hide the small smile that tugged at the edges of her mouth. Despite the rough day they’ve been through, Bowen’s humor certainly came as a welcome break.


	2. The Dagger’s Edge

Staring off to a scene of monstrous mushrooms and roaming blue Netches, Bowen scratched his head. He looked back to the wayshrine behind him, and then to him map. Regrettably, he was lost.  _ Again. _ Bowen took a deep breath and stepped back to the wayshrine, this time hopefully landing in Glenumbra where Agavni would be waiting for him.

****

Arms crossed over her chest, the young mage gazed worriedly at the wayshrine she had teleported to. “Where is he? We were supposed to meet up here a while ago.” Deciding that perhaps it was better to wait for Bowen instead of seeking him out, Agavni sat on the grass to wait patiently for her companion.

He happened to arrive a little while later, his appearance somewhat exhausted though he showed no signs of exertion.

“Bandits, a whole swarm of them, a wolf, and one of those floating squid creatures,” the Nord quickly explained as he stepped away from the glowing pillar.

“Oh Bowen,” Agavni sighed, rubbing away her headache, “I was worried sick.”

Greatful the small woman took him at his word, he gave her a hearty pat on the back. “Sorry ‘bout that. I’ll be more careful in the future. Now where was this Lord Diel you were talking about?” 

Pulling out a map, Agavni pointed to a small location north of Daggerfall. “Somewhere around here. Heard that he was investigating recent harpy attacks, maybe he needs our help?”

Bowen nodded from over her shoulder, his eyes tracking her finger as it slid across the page, ending back where they supposedly were - not that he could correct her if she had been wrong. It didn’t seem to be too far though, they could easily cross that distance before noonday.

It certainly hadn’t taken long before they found the nobleman at his beach campsite, pacing back and forth impatiently.

Noticing them approach almost immediately, his posture tightened and his arms crossed behind his back. “Strangers, a word. You look like the courageous type. I have an opportunity.” The Breton’s eyes danced quickly between Agavni and then Bowen. “You are sober, aren’t you?”

The pair nodded slowly.

“Good. Are you interested in taking on a contract?”

Bowen glanced at Agavni, something about the sudden scrutiny didn’t sit well with him.

Despite her own suspicion, the young woman interlocked her arms before her and lifted her chin slightly, correcting her own posture in hopes of seeming intimidating - regardless of her small nature. “What type of contract?” She asked cautiously.

“Nothing too dangerous. My father, Lord Diel, hired a group called the Daggers to… investigate… the harpy threat. But they’ve been gone too long and I’m beginning to worry. We don’t want any blood on our hands when this is all over.”

The large Nord noticed Agavni’s instant worry and took a step forward. “So, what do you need from us?” The Breton noble didn’t seem to flinch back from Bowen’s slight posturing.

“Well, I need you to go and find them. You can take the one Dagger who managed to find his way back to camp with you. He can fill you in on all the details. I’d send my guards, but then they wouldn’t be protecting me. I’m sure you understand.”

_ Oh, Bowen understood alright _ . He knew the type anywhere, and the thought of helping such a selfish prick sat uneasy with him. 

Fortunately, Agavni was more concerned about the missing Daggers’ wellbeing. “We’ll see what we can do,” she replied. Though when she turned around and found herself face-to-face with a large and menacing Orc, she immediately froze in place.

“You’re going to help me find the rest of the Daggers? Hmm, I’m not sure you’re Dagger material.” The towering Orc chuckled, cracking his knuckles as he spoke. “Your hands look kind of soft and delicate. Like you’ve never beaten anything into submission with your own two fists before.”

Agavni grabbed onto Bowen’s arm, taking a step back from the brute and placing herself slightly behind her comrade.

Bowen crossed his arms over his plated chest, far less intimidated by the Orc. “Just tell us what’s going on here.”

Bumnog, as he introduced himself, lessened his bravado upon appraising Bowen and continued calmly. “The Daggers were hired to help Lord Diel gather research about the harpies. We get him what he needs and we get paid. Simple as pie. But now the rest of the Daggers are missing. We need to find them and make sure our first mission is a success.”

Nodding, Bowen lowered his arms, the sudden animosity between the two men dispelled once business was put forward. “This is the Daggers’ first job?”

“Everyone has to start someplace.” The Orc replied gruffly. “Even the Fighters Guild had a first mission, didn’t they? Who are you to judge?”

Agavni raised a small hand in defense. “W-We’re not judging.”

Shifting his weight from one armored foot to the other, Bowen rolled his eyes, likely judging regardless of her words on the contrary.

The Orc continued, ignoring the small interjection. “Now let’s get out there and do what we’re getting paid for. Let’s find the Daggers and bring back their research!”

Just as Bumnog was about to turn and guide them into the fields, Agavni called out to him. “What kind of research are we talking about?” Though she wished to help the Orc find his missing companions, she wanted to know what they were getting involved in.

Bumnog slowed, his stern face turning down towards hers. “Harpies, eggs, whatever we can bring back so Lord Diel can figure out why these birds have become so violent lately.”

Following the Orc up a vast hill, the group had almost immediately encountered hostile harpies, despite their usual shy nature. At least the noble hadn’t lied about that aspect. 

Bowen drew his shield as Agavni readied her staff. Electricity crackled through the air as she started incanting a spell, while the Nord charged ahead to draw the attention of the flying bird-woman; the creatures went down fairly easily after a few swings of Bowen’s sword and Agavni’s lightning strikes.

Perhaps to shake blood from his sword as he was ought to do, Bowen side-stepped then proceeded to sheath his blade. He turned, his mouth opening to say something as Agavni stepped to join him.

Failing to notice the camouflaged trap, her foot snagged on something; next thing she knew, her body was laid on the dusty ground as a sharp ringing sounded in her ears. Bowen had run back to her, and was shaking her shoulders roughly, his mouth moving but no sound was coming out.

Slowly, the piercing noise subsided and the young woman could eventually make out the words he was saying. “Agavni, are you alright?” It was Bowen’s voice, tinged with worry, ignorant of the small gash along his neck that was bleeding freely.

Raising her hand instinctively, the young mage began channeling her focus into healing his wound, ignoring the puzzled expression plastering over her companion’s concerned features. 

He grabbed her hand, halting her healing, “As much as I appreciate it, you seriously need it more right now.”

Glancing down, she finally started taking in her own condition. “Wha… What happened?!” She cried out, eyes widening at the sight of a large gash on her abdomen; quickly pressing both hands onto her wound, she rushed her magicka into regenerating the injured skin.

“Don’t know, but I’ve noticed traps scattered about…” he cast a quick glance to Bumnog, “Seems that there may be more going on than we first thought.”

“You ladies done gossiping over there?” The Orc called out, his own gaze drawn to the much larger Harpy Matriarch, Foulwing.

Bowen growled as he rose, but a gentle touch on his arm reminded him why they had come in the first place. “They need  _ our _ help, Bowen,” came Agavni’s assurance.

Rising to her feet with a slight sway, the young woman dusted herself off; she gave the short-tempered man, offering him a reassuring smile in hopes of calming him. “Yes, we’re ready to go, Buttnog.”

The Orc’s eye twitched in aggravation, baring his teeth with a flustered scowl. “It’s  _ Bumnog _ !”

“Come now, let’s move on.” She suggested innocently, pushing at the smirking Nord’s back.

Foulwing seemed more than obliged to wait for them, as it was mostly occupied with picking apart its most recent kill. Compared to the other harpies, her feathering was darker and her being adorned heavily in thick, golden jewelry; though when they approached her, the harpy queen was just as vicious and malicious as her once human-wary people.

As usual, Bowen was first to charge the field, wielding sword and shield against the feathered-fiend. Agavni was quick to back him up with a few spells of her own, lightning flashing dangerously close over his head as it singed already black wings. The creature fell thrashing and screaming as her wings burned, before Bowen silenced her pained cries with a sure thrust through her throat.

He grinned over at Bumnog, who had missed the chance at getting involved in the brief altercation.

The Orc returned the grin with a snarled, “Still say using a sword is dishonorable.”

Not far from their location, two distinct voices rang out over the following silence, seemingly bickering. “You’re an idiot, you know that right?”

“How on the Eight do you expect to trap a flying harpy with a trap set on the ground? You’re an idiot, you know that right?”

“Now calm down…” came the other.

Following the arguing, they managed to find the first two members of the Daggers: the Remly brothers. 

“Did Lord Diel send you?” Questioned aggravatedly one of the brothers upon noticing the group approaching them. “Well, there’s nothing new to report, except that my brother is an idiot. Armel placed dozens of traps and he just realized something. Harpies don’t walk! Now we’re trying to figure out how to salvage the situation.”

“Well,” started Agavni, “what can we do to help?”

The older looking of the siblings, Balin, cut in before his brother could say anything. “We’re trying to capture of few of the harpies for Lord Diel. Apparently, Lord Diel wants to observe the harpies for their odd behavior.” Gesturing down at an all-too-familiar trap, he continued. “The issue is our traps, they’re-”

“On the f**king ground! We’ve noticed!!!” Bowen was all too quick to interrupt.

Agavni jabbed him harshly in the ribs. “We’ve noticed.” She repeated with a bit more softness to her voice. 

Balin coughed, looking slightly embarrassed. “Yes, umm… we’ve got these throwing snares…”

****

The harpy lay trapped and squirming in the snare, and Agavni couldn’t help feeling sorry for the poor creature, its whining tugging painfully at her heart. That was when she noticed the nest and its clutch of eggs.

“Bowen? You don’t suppose Lord Diel would want to look at the eggs too?”

The Nord looked up from where he was wiping the remnants of battle from his blade. “I suppose. Why?”

Agavni looked back to the eggs and knew that they couldn’t last long without the heat of their mother that they’d be hauling away. “I’d just feel bad about leaving them here…”

“Well, how are we going to carry them?”

Tapping a finger thoughtfully on her chin, the young woman glanced around for something to contain the unborn brood. She could carry one in each hand, but that would prevent her from casting her spells if needed, and carrying them in her robe would most likely end in disaster.  _ Maybe… _ Agavni turned her attention to her large comrade, more specifically to what he was wearing. “Oh! I know! We can use your breastplate!” She announced, a smile lighting up her face. 

“My breastplate?” he asked slowly, not quite sure he heard her right.

“Yes, and possibly the back plate too. We can make a sort of portable nest for them, not to mention that your body heat has already warmed up everything.”

She sounded so proud of herself for finding a solution to their odd predicament, yet Bowen still had some issues with it. “You want my armor… in harpy territory? What if I need it… you know… to protect me from the harpies.”

“Don’t be such a big baby. You can do that hardened armor thing. Weren’t you telling me that that steel plate was pretty much for decoration anyways?”

Bumnog finally grinned. “Yeah! Don’t be such a baby.”

Bowen shot him a glare that could have seared the eyebrows off the Orc had the Nord been a mage. “Please Bowen?” Agavni’s voice pleaded softly, “I can’t exactly take off my own clothes to use as a basket.”

“You could…” mumbled Bowen under his breath.

Agavni pointedly ignored him, though a light rouge touched her cheeks. She held out her hand expectantly, and with a sigh, Bowen began to strip as a quiet snicker sounded from Bumnog. “You’d rather hand me  _ your _ armor, Buttnog?” The young woman frowned disapprovingly.

“Nope, nope. It’s your call, I’ll just wait over here until you two are done with… whatever this is,” he gestured to the pile of plate armor, twigs, and grass Agavni had already started scavenging from their surroundings.

****

Agavni tested on the leather straps across Bowen’s chest making sure they would hold before she finally released her hold on the makeshift nest on the Nord’s back. “And you’re sure that those spikes you grow won’t hurt them?”

“No, shouldn’t anyway. When I use the spell it treats everything on my person as… me I guess. Never looked into the logistics of it.” When the small woman didn’t look any more reassured, he quickly added, “if anything they’ll be getting the same protection I do, okay?”

“Alright, I’m trusting your word on this.” Agavni gave the armor a small pat before starting to head back down the hill.

****

Despite the few bumps and scrapes, they made it out of the harpies’ territory, and true to Bowen’s word the eggs remained unharmed.

“Hey, is that… Gelvin?” Bumnog announced, spying the slumped over Breton before either Bowen or Agavni did.

Upon approaching the leader of the Daggers, the man’s expression turned to one of confusion when noticing the odd burden on Bowen’s back. “I, uh, heard that the Daggers were getting help from two individuals. I take it that’s you? Certainly had a different image in mind...” He tried to stand but was hindered by a pain in his leg, drawing a concerned look from Bumnog. “It’s fine, likely just a sprain I got from the harpy traps Balin and Armel left lying around.”

“Here,” Agavni offered, kneeling close to get a better look. “Let me have a look.”

“That uh… backpack.”

“No. Not going to talk about it,” Bowen answered surly, his eyes focusing somewhere in the distance. 

The small mage fought back the urge to smile at the Nord’s temper. “Harpy eggs.” She answered in his place, her attention focused on healing the man’s injury. “We didn’t want to leave them without their mother.”

Gelvin didn’t pry further. “Eggs? How many did you manage to find?”

“Four, why do you ask?”

“Our patron was wanting a few. I got one, so that makes five. Hopefully, he’s happy with that amount.” The Breton seemed to lose himself in thought for a moment before speaking again. “I’ll meet with you later, there’s something I need to do first.”

When the pair turned to Bumnog for answers, the Orc merely shrugged. “He does that sometimes.”

It was the best answer they were going to get apparently, and after the day they had neither had the energy for arguing.

“Let’s go talk to Lord Diel then,” suggested Agavni now that they had found all the missing Dagger members.

****

When they reached Lord Diel’s camp on the outskirts of the Shrieking Scar, they were welcomed with the heart-wrenching sight of the captured harpies laying on the ground, crying out and wiggling under the snares in a helpless struggle against the nets that held them pinned.

“You can’t keep them like this, Lord Diel! They’re in pain!” A woman argued, looking just about ready to strangle the noble but managing to keep her anger at the injustice to herself.

Lord Diel scoffed, keeping his head held high. “I can do what I like with them, after all I’m the one investigating as to why these birdies have become so very, very angry.”

Agavni had reservations about interrupting the pair, but her large companion had no such restrictions. “Hey! Got those eggs you were wanting.”

The noble turned with an unsavory pleased look on his face. It made Agavni sick. “Ah, excellent. Excellent. You can put those just over there.”

As they removed the awkward pack, the young woman hesitantly revealed the eggs to Lord Diel; he quickly pushed her aside, eyes glimmering at the sight of the clutch. “Ah, so round and smooth,” he all but drooled, “well, oval, really. I’ll begin studying these eggs right a… Wait a moment.”

Bowen paused in his attempts to rid his armor of any remaining twigs. “What’s wrong?”

“Where’s the other egg?” The nobleman barked out, “I was promised five harpy eggs, not four! Didn’t they teach to count? There will be no deal without five eggs! Five! No more, no less. Imbeciles!”

They looked at each other. That was the first time either Agavni or Bowen had heard about the exact number Lord Diel was wanting. “S-Sir, we weren’t even aware of-” The young mage defended but was quickly interrupted by Bumnog.

“Gelvin has the fifth egg.”

“Does he now? And where  _ is _ your so called leader?” That, Bumnog didn’t have an answer for. “I suggest you find that bootless lout and get it back. There will be consequences. These are my eggs!”

With a threatening promise, the nobleman turned and walked away. 

“You’d think he laid them or something,” Bowen leaned down to whisper to Agavni.

A short snort escaped the young woman’s closed lips; she quickly cleared her throat in an attempt to regain her composure. “Maybe he did. We don’t know for sure.”

A wide grin spread across Bowen’s face as he slipped his armor back on, followed by a hearty chuckle that he made no attempt to hide. “Come on, let’s go find that last egg.”

****

It was just as Gelvin’s sister had guessed: the leader of the Daggers had been hiding within Lord Diel’s very residence. When the pair confronted him, Gelvin explained simply. “Something fishy’s going on here. I don’t think Lord Diel has been entirely truthful with us.” Examining the interior, the Breton’s suspicions weren’t misplaced. “I figured if there was any place to get answers, it was right here.”

“We’ll help you look,” the tiny mage stated, “just need to be quick about it. Won’t be long until Lord Diel finds out where you are.”

As the three scoured the small building, Bowen asked, “What are we looking for?”

“Anything that looks suspicious,” Agavni replied with a shrug as she attempted to pry open a large chest.

Bowen held up a fish. “This?” he asked somewhat seriously. “No one in their right mind would leave a good looking fish like this to just rot.”

Gelvin shook his head, “I highly doubt  _ Lord _ Diel is in his right mind.”

Just then, the large chest swung open and the scent of decay instantly filled the room. “Ugggh, yuck,” Agavni complained, getting a good whiff as she was the closest.

“Sweet Talos, what did you do over there?” whined Bowen, a hand coming up to cover his nose.

His small comrade breathed out shakily, fighting down the bile accumulating in her throat. “Suspicious,” she managed with a finger pointing at the contents of the chest, “very suspicious.”

“I’d say,” agreed the large Nord. “That smell is going to haunt my dreams.”

Agavni couldn’t argue and slammed the lid closed to lessen the permeating stench.

“As suspicious as that was,” started Gelvin similarly disgusted, “we still need something more incriminating.” 

A potion bottle filled with viscous liquid was found on a table, its ingredients unidentifiable and seemingly unhealthy; a lure-making kit was also found within a coffer. Yet those didn’t seem to satisfy Gelvin. “Come on! There’s got to be something that will help catch this weasel!”

On a hunch, Bowen flipped back the rug by the front door. A lengthy letter had been hidden beneath it. Skimming its pages quickly, Bowen held it up for the Daggers’ leader. “This incriminating enough for you?”

Gelvin saw the papers and snatched them from Bowen’s fingers. “Let me see that. What in the name of…? Lord Diel’s been poisoning the harpies this entire time!  _ He’s  _ been the cause of their aggressive behavior!”

“What’s your call?” asked Bowen carefully. “If you confront him with this you won’t get paid.”

A pained expression flashed across Gelvin’s face. “And then the Daggers will be no more… but it can’t be helped, I don’t want to fund us with dirty money. The Daggers don’t operate that way.”

As much as the idea of the enthusiastic mercenaries disbanding hurt Agavni, the path was clear in the small mage’s head. “We need to do the right thing, we can’t let Lord Diel get away with this.”

Bowen sighed, likely calculating how much they would be losing doing the ‘right thing’. “You’re right,” he finally concluded, rising from his crouch. “Let’s go get the bastard.”

****

As it turned out, they didn’t have to go far to find Lord Diel as he had decided to join them on the boardwalk up to the building, several more harpies snared to its planks. “Now, where is that damn thief?” The nobleman hissed under his breath, “And where in the Eight is my damn egg?!”

Having been instructed to distract Lord Diel, Agavni was quick to respond. “You’re not getting the harpy egg.”

Lord Diel’s attention immediately snapped to the small mage. “What did you say?! Those eggs are my property.”

Though Agavni had proven to be the voice of reason on their adventures, it seemed that this nobleman had managed to push her a little too far. “We have proof that you instigated this entire mess, you… you tiny,  _ pathetic, _ little man. I’m sure the guard would be happy to know what we found here.”

Bowen could only stare dumbfounded as the little woman continued her tirade, that and watch  Gelvin creep along the docks to knock Lord Diel’s personal guard out.

“You think the guard would believe you?” Guffawed the aged man, “Some street rats who lay claim against a well-respected noble? You’re dumber than you look.”

Agavni clenched her fists, ready to punch the noble, despite her usual peace-loving nature. It was only when Bowen tapped lightly on her shoulder that she noticed the leader of the Daggers in the back. The two exchanged a look of concern as one of the harpies was set free with the discrete slice of a hunting knife; the creature shook its remaining bonds and slowly made its way to its once captor.

“What impertinence!” Lord Diel continued, thinking that he had successfully intimidated the two as Bowen and Agavni took slight steps back from him. “No one will miss you or those street rats. Guards! Deal with these thieves!”

But there were no conscious guards to hear his cry. 

With a harsh shriek, razor claws sliced through the rich material of the noble’s doublet, ripping deep lines into his back. He died with less than a gurgle.

The harpy turned its eagle-like gaze to the pair, but whether it understood what Agavni and Bowen had done for its people, or more likely it scented the remains of its unborn brood on Bowen’s armor, it didn’t attack, instead taking to the sky to fly back to its hunting grounds.

“Huh…” Agavni pondered, “I guess that’s the end of that?”

“Not yet.” Bowen nudged the mage, pointing at Bumnog who stood witness.

The Orc approached, though he didn’t appear to want to fight them. “So Gelvin killed the bastard?”

“Lord Diel planned to sell the harpies and eggs. He was using you.”

“Yeah, I figured that out. Bet he was also behind the whole harpy frenzy. I snatched this from the camp when no one was looking.” He looked more than a little guilty as he passed the pair a few large gems. “ It’s enough to keep the Daggers together. Can you tell Gelvin that you found these on his lordship’s body? We don’t want him to think I stole it or anything.” 

“Can’t you do it?” Bowen asked, bouncing the precious stones in his palm as he weighed them mentally. 

“Someone’s got to free these birdies,” Bumnog stated gruffly, “and I don’t think they’ll be too friendly when I do. You two have already done enough for the Daggers.”

****

Gelvin hadn’t been too hard to find. They almost could have tracked him by the disappointment radiating from his figure. “Diel’s gone, but I don’t feel any better. These people depended on me and I failed them…”

“I wouldn’t give up on the Daggers just yet,” the small mage offered, holding up the jewels for the Daggers’ leader to inspect.

His eyes widened at the sight, disbelief evident on his features. “What do you mean?”

“We found this bag of gems on Lord Diel’s body. You earned them. The Daggers can stay together,” Bowen added, a smile tugging at his lips.

The Breton took the small bag from them. “I thought the Daggers were finished. But, well, it looks like we have a future after all!” He fished through his own coin purse. “Here, take this. Consider it a small token of our appreciation…”

Agavni shook her head pressing the coins back into Gelvin’s palm. “We’re just happy to get the harpies back to normal.” The Nord’s expression fell slightly as he watched the coins disappear. She gave him a pat on the arm, a secret promise behind the action.

“A conservationist,” Gelvin nodded. “Guess I can respect that. Still, you’ll always have a place with the Daggers if you want it.”

They watched the misfit band depart, leaving them along the beach to briefly enjoy the salty breeze.

“We could’ve used the coin,” Bowen complained.

“But don’t you feel so much better for helping them out?”

“Not as much as a good, hot meal would have done.”

“Well, you’re in luck then.” She gave him a poke in the stomach, though the effect was muted by the metal breastplate he wore. “I’ve prepared a pig roast in town with your name on it.”

The Nord paused, the imaginary scent already permeating his nose. “How…? When…?”

“Remember that pig farmer we helped back in town?”

“Ummm… yes.”

“Well, I managed to wrangle a deal on a handsome boar he was going to sell to market,” she announced proudly. “And I know how you like pig, so I prepared one for you!”

All prior grievances Bowen had towards the outcome of their most recent adventure immediately went out the window as he trailed after her. 

Agavni couldn’t help smiling at the large man’s sudden change in attitude. “See, it’s worth helping out people.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He muttered lowly, fetching the reins from both of their horses they had left in the brush. 


End file.
